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Last night I posted that Daughter had really been constipated. She had been having diarrhea around a large chunk. Yesterday evening, after much straining and misery, she got the large chunk out. When I went into the bathroom last night, I discovered that her large chunk had clogged the toilet. It would still flush, but it would drain quite slowly. This isn't the first time this has happened, so I'm an expert plunger. I plunged repeatedly last night, but couldn't get the clog to clear.
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I also know, from experience, that if I let it sit a while, the chunk soaks up some moisture, becomes softer, and clears more easily. Leaving the plunger in the toilet so that neither of us would use it until it was clear, I went to bed. I got up at 5:30 this morning and flushed the toilet to see if it had cleared. It hadn't. I began plunging again, and discovered that my plunging last night had had an impact. It had compacted the clog into cement, and water could no longer flow around it. The toilet began to overflow. I grabbed the lid off the tank and stuck two hands in to hold the flapper down and the shut-off up to stop the flow of water. I stood, there pondering my next step, when I remembered there should be a shut-off valve under the tank. I called Daughter. She answered with her standard, "Okay, I'm moving."
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"No, right now! I need help!"
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That actually got her moving.
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"There's a knob under the toilet I need you to turn off."
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She reached her hand into the tank.
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"No, UNDER!"
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She touched the bottom of the tank.
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"NO, get down and look under the tank and find the knob!"
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She got down and looked under, "This thing on the wall?"
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"Yes, turn it."
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She managed to stop the flow of water so I could let go of things and step away. I grabbed towels to soak up the lake we now had on the bathroom floor. "Go get a bucket." She scurried off and I grabbed the microfiber cloths I use for cleaning, spreading them around the floor.
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When she returned with the bucket, I told her she needed to get down and mop up the water. She started picking up the cloths and dumping them in the bucket. "You're going to have to wring them out and reused them."
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She obediently rang it out-- back onto the floor.
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"No, in the bucket!"
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I left the bathroom to leave her to clean up. I had to point out several areas she missed, but she got it done. She was shaken up by the fact water was dripping into the basement when she went in search of the bucket. She realizes it is her fault, and feels guilty. I asked her what she could do to prevent this happening again. She took some more of her clear lax this morning.
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It was interesting to be reminded of some of her issues-- not understanding what under the tank meant, or grasping that she needed to wring the water out into the bucket.
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I was reminded of my own disconnects after we got to the church. I had grown tired of wearing the church keys around my neck, so I've been keeping them in my pocket. This morning I took them out of my pocket and laid them down in my study-- and closed the door when I walked out. I'm waiting for Administrative Assistant to arrive and let me back into my study.
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The library computer downstairs is password protected, so I couldn't get on it, but the computer on the AV desk in the sanctuary is locked by a hidden key, and I know the location of the hidden key, so I was able to get computer access while I wait. I like being in a high-tech church.
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No, I'm not in a bad mood. I will call one of the saints with a background in plumbing in a little while and ask him if he could help clear the clog in my bathroom. I have a key in a box locked by a combination lock, so he can do it at his convenience (hopefully today). I choose to see the humor in all of this. Everything can be fixed, and hopefully Daughter learned something from this.
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Sister Best Friend is on her way to do worship planning. It's going to be a good day, even after an interesting beginning.
.
I also know, from experience, that if I let it sit a while, the chunk soaks up some moisture, becomes softer, and clears more easily. Leaving the plunger in the toilet so that neither of us would use it until it was clear, I went to bed. I got up at 5:30 this morning and flushed the toilet to see if it had cleared. It hadn't. I began plunging again, and discovered that my plunging last night had had an impact. It had compacted the clog into cement, and water could no longer flow around it. The toilet began to overflow. I grabbed the lid off the tank and stuck two hands in to hold the flapper down and the shut-off up to stop the flow of water. I stood, there pondering my next step, when I remembered there should be a shut-off valve under the tank. I called Daughter. She answered with her standard, "Okay, I'm moving."
.
"No, right now! I need help!"
.
That actually got her moving.
.
"There's a knob under the toilet I need you to turn off."
.
She reached her hand into the tank.
.
"No, UNDER!"
.
She touched the bottom of the tank.
.
"NO, get down and look under the tank and find the knob!"
.
She got down and looked under, "This thing on the wall?"
.
"Yes, turn it."
.
She managed to stop the flow of water so I could let go of things and step away. I grabbed towels to soak up the lake we now had on the bathroom floor. "Go get a bucket." She scurried off and I grabbed the microfiber cloths I use for cleaning, spreading them around the floor.
.
When she returned with the bucket, I told her she needed to get down and mop up the water. She started picking up the cloths and dumping them in the bucket. "You're going to have to wring them out and reused them."
.
She obediently rang it out-- back onto the floor.
.
"No, in the bucket!"
.
I left the bathroom to leave her to clean up. I had to point out several areas she missed, but she got it done. She was shaken up by the fact water was dripping into the basement when she went in search of the bucket. She realizes it is her fault, and feels guilty. I asked her what she could do to prevent this happening again. She took some more of her clear lax this morning.
.
It was interesting to be reminded of some of her issues-- not understanding what under the tank meant, or grasping that she needed to wring the water out into the bucket.
.
I was reminded of my own disconnects after we got to the church. I had grown tired of wearing the church keys around my neck, so I've been keeping them in my pocket. This morning I took them out of my pocket and laid them down in my study-- and closed the door when I walked out. I'm waiting for Administrative Assistant to arrive and let me back into my study.
.
The library computer downstairs is password protected, so I couldn't get on it, but the computer on the AV desk in the sanctuary is locked by a hidden key, and I know the location of the hidden key, so I was able to get computer access while I wait. I like being in a high-tech church.
.
No, I'm not in a bad mood. I will call one of the saints with a background in plumbing in a little while and ask him if he could help clear the clog in my bathroom. I have a key in a box locked by a combination lock, so he can do it at his convenience (hopefully today). I choose to see the humor in all of this. Everything can be fixed, and hopefully Daughter learned something from this.
.
Sister Best Friend is on her way to do worship planning. It's going to be a good day, even after an interesting beginning.
2 comments:
He must REALLY be a saint if he agrees to do that job.
FYI I have found it is better to act immediately and extract the offending object (with disposible gloves) rather than let it sit there festering overnight in the hope that it will be more cooperative in the morning.
He came with an assistant (they spent the morning at the church installing a garbage disposal). I had said it was a medium job. They say I underestimated it. I need two new toilets. These have calcifications built up and weak flushes. They will install new ones. One will go with me to help me select new ones. I hope to take care of that at the beginning of next week. They truly are saints. I'm grateful to be in such a caring community.
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